Ah yes. It is almost that time of year again where we celebrate blowing things up and burning an effigy in the name of killing government leaders (well, King someone or other and his band of Merry men) and then celebrate the epic fail that was Guy Fawkes. Of course, if you are not British and don’t know your history, you are already wondering just what the hell I am on about. Well, look it up. This ain’t no history lesson boy.
Of course, we call it Guy Fawkes night or bonfire night, but he was just the messenger. Well, a guy with lots of things that go bang anyway. And he was only caught because he was wearing a coat, boots and spurs when it was a “Dress like a farmyard animal” night down olde London town that night, so he stuck out like a large thing in a small place and was put down like old yella. Why was he wearing spurs in the middle of London? Was he trying to be a cowboy?
I have never understood the reason why we celebrate trying to kill all of the government which ended in teaching young kids that it is OK to stick the body of a guy on a fire and burn him. Maybe make a pinata out of him instead as at least that ends in sweets and the kids get to work on their swing!. This is one of those mad things that makes no sense. A little like Council chiefs in Oxford renaming the town’s Christmas lights a “winter light festival” to avoid offending Muslims. Except that the local Muslims said they just don’t have a problem with Christmas. Which why would they, being in Britain and all.
But probably the worst of all is that in a recent poll of “World sexiest man”, at least one magazine didn’t have me in the top 10. Actually, I wasn’t in the top 100. OK, so it was every magazine that missed me. But I understand why I wasn’t top of the list. You all thought everyone else would vote for me and so you didn’t bother. Well, next year it would be appreciated if you could at least vote for me. It just doesn’t matter if I am as ugly as a cup of cat sick does it? We are all friends here. You scratch my back so to speak. Your back has too many spots, so don’t complain when I don’t return the favour hey; Flaky?
Of course, all this pales in to insignificance for our American cousins who tomorrow get to do something quite amazing. They get to celebrate the holiday for the patent for the artificial leg being granted to Benjamin Palmer which was granted in 1846. Amazing. Oh, and of course…you guys get to put a cross in a box. It is all about the cross huh. Most boring game of Noughts and Crosses ever. The noughts don’t even get a look in.
Well, it could be worse. You could change your name to “Captain Fantastic Faster Than Superman Spiderman Batman Wolverine Hulk And The Flash Combined” (No. REALLY). But then, when your original name is StupidDumbName McGetALife, you can see why he changed it. So does he now walk around with a sailors hat on and getting people to call him “captain”, or is he trying to be a seaman for the “other” reason? Either way, if I ever find myself in Somerset, I am going to get him drunk and then get him to change his name to “Spanky Monkey” or “Poppy Sprinklebottom” or “Harold”. Dude, I will even pay the £10 to get it done if you ever read this!
In important other news, I stubbed my toe earlier. I screamed like a big girl. OK, so I am getting why you didn’t vote for me now.
wheelturninghamsterdead.com 